


i will reveal you

by carnival_papers



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pet Names, Scar Kissing, Scar touching, Soft Kylux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 22:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7241323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnival_papers/pseuds/carnival_papers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo is self-conscious about his new scar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i will reveal you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ottenebrare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottenebrare/gifts).



> a belated birthday present for the lovely [ottenebrare](http://ottenebrare.tumblr.com), who has gifted me with such wonderful art and such a wonderful friendship! inspired by [her art](https://ottenebrare.tumblr.com/post/145156522128/scar-kisses-for-smol-hux) and [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=80nphqvRKo8).

Inside the helmet, it’s hot, and Kylo can feel himself sweating. There’s no reason for him to be so warm; the helmet is ventilated, the _Finalizer_ ’s air cool. But Hux’s eyes are on him, and as always, he has a way of looking through the twist of metal that covers Kylo’s face.

“You’ve never had a problem with this before.” Hux says, crossing his arms over his chest, impatient. “I hate not being able to see you in that _thing_.”

For a moment, Kylo lets himself believe that’s a compliment. Then he remembers the too-smooth face from his dreams, that boy’s tender, soft face, unscarred. If Hux had ever wanted him, it was that face that he wanted, not the one beneath the helmet, torn with ragged red skin.

At first, Kylo had almost believed the scar was a blessing. It made him look harder, more like a man. When he’d been let out of medbay, he’d studied himself in the mirror, fingers pressing against the new wound in disbelief. He’d refused bacta— _foolish_ , Hux had shouted—and dealt with the pain. He needed it. Woke with blood on his pillow, the still-healing gash broken open in the night. For weeks, it hurt, and for weeks, he has refused to show himself to Hux, never leaving his rooms without the helmet, never letting Hux in.

But tonight Hux had overridden the door locks, and upon hearing them click open, Kylo had scrambled for the helmet, turned away from the door, shoved it down onto his head. Breath catching strange, Hux not moving, Kylo unable to make himself use the Force to push Hux out.

And so they are at an impasse, standing on opposite sides of Kylo’s room, and Kylo realizes now that he is trembling, and that he is more afraid, maybe, than he has ever been. “I look different,” Kylo says, the vocoder lowering his voice, hopefully disguising his fear.

“It’s just a scar, Ren, don’t be stupid,” Hux scoffs. “I know that’s impossible for you.”

He lifts his hands to the buttons hidden on the underside of the helmet. Only manages to rest his fingers there, not to actually press the buttons. He swallows, and he sighs, and he blinks. Hux is immovable.

This thing between them had developed quickly, out of mutual necessity. Snoke had thrown the two of them together, and of course they’d clashed—Kylo is not an easy man to work with, he knows this—but they’d managed to build something, and so night after night they’d retired to one another’s quarters, and Hux had pushed Kylo to the bed and used first his hands, then his mouth, then his cock, and Kylo had let himself be used. And he had enjoyed it, _fuck_ , he had loved every second of it, going limp under Hux’s palms, Hux calling him _filthy_ and _whore_ and _kitten_ and _darling_ , and Kylo had learned to beg, and how to make Hux beg, and what good his too-full lips could be when they pressed to Hux’s throat or cock or ass.

But it’s been weeks. And that had all been before the scar, when Kylo could occasionally convince himself that Hux’s seeming attraction to him was more than just a cruel joke. Now, he knows, as soon as he lifts the helmet from his head, Hux will come to his senses, call him _hideous thing_ and leave the room laughing.

He lets his hands fall to his sides again. “What do you want,” Kylo says. “Tell me.”

“Oh—honestly, is it so hard to believe that I miss fucking you?” Hux shakes his head. “I’ve seen you in far worse shape than just a scar on your face. Come on.”

True. Hux had been the first one there when Rey had left him bleeding in the snow. He’d half-expected to die that night, feeling the earth open beneath him, hoping he might be swallowed up. Hux had appeared between the trees, cursing and shouting and hauling him up from the ground, and Kylo had nearly fallen into his arms. _You’re bleeding on my fucking coat, you stupid—idiotic—_ , Hux was screaming, and Kylo had choked on his tears, stumbling against Hux on their way to the shuttle.

Kylo’s mouth twitches. Tears pricking at the corners of his eyes again, _damn it_ , _damn it_ —perhaps he mutters this aloud, perhaps his body betrays him again. He stares at the floor, black boots on black tile, and then there is the soft sound of Hux advancing, the toes of his boots suddenly in Kylo’s view.

“If you’re going to be such a child, I’ll just do it myself,” Hux says. Kylo won’t look up, he can’t, can’t face Hux like this. But there are Hux’s hands at the base of the helmet— _Hux, please_ , Kylo thinks he says—his gloved fingers pressing against his neck. A fingertip trailing under Kylo’s jaw, a breath when he finally finds the switch and presses it with his thumb.

The pressure releases. Kylo’s heart clenches. Hux’s knuckles skim across Kylo’s cheek as he lifts the helmet. The room suddenly feels too cold, all that air on his sweaty face. Hux holds the helmet between them, its curve pressed against Kylo’s stomach. Kylo keeps his face tilted down.

He thinks Hux sways a bit—he feels the helmet push into his torso just slightly—and then he drops the helmet to the floor, where it thuds and rolls. Hux nudges it out of the way with the toe of his boot. Resets himself, his feet, opposite Kylo.

Kylo watches Hux’s hands, which hang in the space between them. He flexes his fingers, the leather of his gloves stretching over his knuckles. For a long time, Kylo has dreamed of twining his fingers between Hux’s, feeling Hux’s cool palm press into his own, warm with sweat. A foolish, overly romantic notion—that Hux calling him _darling_ was ever anything more than mockery, that the nights they’ve spent together could become in some way permanent. They’re only tools for one another—Kylo’s cheeks heat with shame when he remembers this again. Forces himself to remember.

Hux’s fingers move, deft, as he slips the gloves from his hands, lets them fall to the floor. He toes those away, too, and Kylo holds his gaze on the new bone-white skin dotted here and there with freckles. Those fingers have found their way into Kylo’s mouth; he has sucked come and sweat from those fingers; he has kissed them. It takes restraint, now, not to take Hux’s hands into his own, tell him to leave before he sees this—this _face_ , if it can be called that.

But—those fingers span his jaw, his cheeks, a thumb tracing over his upper lip. He becomes acutely aware of Hux’s fingertips on the scar, the feeling a dull burn, as if numbed. “Lift your head up, my sweet,” Hux says, so quietly Kylo thinks he has dreamed it, and Kylo lets himself be moved.

Hux is staring up at him, eyes flaring in the low light. His lips are parted, and a strand of hair has fallen onto his forehead. Kylo thinks of brushing it away, following the gentle lines that crease Hux’s skin, but—no, no. For just a moment, he meets Hux’s gaze, until Hux’s eyes shift and take in the scar. Kylo feels pinned, a specimen on an examination table, under the scalpel of Hux’s sight.

Very slowly, Hux draws his fingertips over the scar. First, his fingers slip down Kylo’s cheek—thumb pulling at his lower lip now, over his chin—to where the scar is widest, where jaw becomes neck. Kylo knows the mark disappears beneath the collar of his robes, stretching across his shoulder and collarbone. Hux does not push to see this, though Kylo suspects that, were he to drop into Hux’s thoughts, he would see a repulsed curiosity about what lies beneath.

In truth, Kylo can hardly feel it. The skin—the nerves—are dead, burnt and pulverized. Mostly he tracks the movement of Hux’s fingers by the movement of his eyes. But now and then, as Hux’s touch travels slowly back up Kylo’s cheek, over the bridge of his nose, up to his forehead, there’s a twinge of feeling, like a shock or a spark.

Hux had looked at him like this once before—the very first time, when he had undressed Kylo and made him splay on the bed. His body had given him away then, too, when he’d been hard despite himself, and Hux had laughed at him, _filthy, filthy boy_ , and Kylo had come just at Hux’s touch on his inner thighs, just at the thought of being wanted. Now, Kylo blinks away tears, stares up at the ceiling to ward them off, cannot let himself think of the softness of Hux’s touch.

“Ren,” Hux says.

Kylo’s breath quivers when he speaks. “I know it’s ugly. Or, I’m—”

“Hardly,” Hux says. “Look at me.”

He keeps his eyes set somewhere on the viewport behind Hux, just above him. He shakes his head. The prickle of tears again, Hux’s thumb stroking across his eyebrow.

“You’re impossible,” Hux mutters. “Please, sweetling.”

And at that—how can Kylo do anything but obey?

He meets Hux’s eyes again, holds them this time. And when he does, he can no longer keep the tears back, and they trickle wet and warm down his cheeks, under Hux’s fingertips. “Fuck,” Kylo murmurs, sniffing, his face growing hot again.

Hux shushes him, very gently, and eases Kylo’s face closer to his own. Hux’s eyes close, and fear sneaks into Kylo again—is he that repulsive? But then Hux’s lips are trailing across Kylo’s cheek, his nose brushing Kylo’s skin, and Hux is kissing his face. No—kissing the scar, turning Kylo’s head just so, mouth pressing lightly, tongue skimming skin.

It feels a bit like being opened up and rearranged and stitched back together. Hux mouths at the scar, his teeth grazing Kylo’s jaw. His fingers play at Kylo’s earlobe, touching the soft spot behind his ear, and Kylo chokes on his tears. That Hux could want him, now, still.

“Brave boy,” Hux says, kissing the words into Kylo’s skin. “My brave boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at [huxcrying](http://huxcrying.tumblr.com)!


End file.
